


He's a Real Stud Muffin

by HunkyDory (DullahanShadow)



Series: No Such Thing as Too Sweet [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Hunk (Voltron), Biker Keith (Voltron), Fluff, M/M, Minor Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 04:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16010603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DullahanShadow/pseuds/HunkyDory
Summary: Hunk's Ma always said, be kind to everyone, even if it isn't returned. Hunk lives by this creed and uses it with everyone he meets. So, being nice to a disgruntled motorcyclist should be fine, right? He even gave him muffins!Hunk tries to stay positive even as the rumble of the bike fades, but he can’t help but feel he’d done something wrong.Or maybe Keith just didn’t like muffins.





	He's a Real Stud Muffin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift for [Cas](http://midnight-petrichor.tumblr.com/). Happy birthday, friend, here's Hunk and Keith being cute and piney. I'm so glad to be your friend and to give you Heith cuteness!!
> 
> Thanks [Hannaadi88](http://hannaadi88.tumblr.com/) for betaing, you're a doll as per usual, and the best cheerleader. <3

Hunk likes to start his morning early with the air still crisp and cold against his skin and just the sound of his own footsteps as he walks inside his little bakery. Early enough before the tint of orange blends with the lingering night sky, Hunk enjoys how each morning is different as he stares out the window of his shop just before opening. He always takes a moment to watch the fiery red spill across the sky like it’s on fire. It was beautiful. Eventually, the crimson sky bleeds into a deep blue, all traces of dawn gone from the sky. 

Hunk makes this his routine. It reminds him that each day while the same, is also unique in its way. And that’s okay. It would be okay.

Hunk has his sleeves rolled up, the yellow fabric scrunching up around his biceps as he kneads the dough on his counter. He hums as he works, an old tune his mom sang with her sisters as they pulled out dish after dish of Samoan delicacies. Hunk never feels more at peace than he does in the kitchen, it reminds him of only his best memories with his mom and aunties. Well, that and the whirl and buzz of machines, oil sticking to his fingers like melted chocolate.

The dough feels soft and pliant as he works it into a ball, sprinkling flour as he kneads. He checks the clock, 4:44; Lance wouldn’t shuffle sleepily in for another hour and a half, and Hunk needed to start on those scones. He glances behind him at the light emanating from his oven as the timer for his muffins ticks down. He plops the formed dough into a bowl setting it aside to rise. He dips his measuring cup into the flour for his scones lifting his knife to perfect the mixture, his tongue sticking out in concentration. That concentration is broken as a loud unpleasant sound fills his ears, like a mechanic whirl mixed of an engine sputtering and dying. It is followed by a slew of swears that is almost as loud.

The abrupt noise shocks Hunk and a volley of flour flies from his hand and sprinkles across the floor and his clothes and hair. He doesn’t take notice of it as he runs towards the entrance of his bakery. 

Outside is a figure crouching over a motorcycle. Hunk can just make out the detailing of red on the bike as the man attempts to rev the engine to life. It gives out a pitiful sputter before puttering out completely. The man lifts a hand as if to smack the machine, “Uh,” Hunk interrupts, the motorcyclist pauses and turns to look at Hunk. Hunk lifts his hand and offers a little wave.

“Having some trouble?” Hunk asks when he is met with dark eyes and a flat expression from the man. Slowly, he offers a nod, and Hunk returns it with was bright smile. “Well,” he pushes up his sleeves, “you’re in luck, I’m pretty handy with mechanics. I can take a look at it, and see if anything needs fixing.” He proposes, the man seems shocked by the offer but nevertheless, his grip on the handles of the bike loosen and he pulls back.

“Thank you,” the man says, adjusting his coat as he straightens and meets Hunk’s eyes. Hunk is immediately struck by how surreal yet piercing the man’s eyes were, deep purple irises that remind Hunk of figs newly harvested from a tree.

Lance has told him countless times that he shouldn’t compare people to food. But, hey, that was just how Hunk rolled.

“Um,” the man says as he takes a step closer, a frown still on his face, “you got a little,” he makes a movement over his hair, black as squid ink, Hunk notes. Hunk mimics the movement and a plume of flour spills from his hair.

He feels heat rise in his cheeks, “O-oh!” He coughs and rubs his head a little, before pointing at the apron still cinched to his chest, “professional hazard. Let’s take your bike around back, I’m opening the shop soon but I can start working on it when my coworker stops by. I’m Tsuyoshi by the way, but everyone just calls me Hunk,” he extends his hand to shake the still nameless man’s hand.

“Keith,” the man, Keith, replies shortly, he shakes Hunk’s hand in a military fashion, all business. Hunk lets his hand settle back at his side before remembering, the bike, right! He reaches for the bike just as Keith settles his hand back on the handle, as Hunk looks up, the sun begins its ascent past the trees shining brightly behind Keith. The illumination of the sun behind the cyclist makes Hunk pause. There is something about the glow around Keith, like a halo, as the red sun shines behind him. His fingers twitch as he looks at Keith a bit slack jawed.

Maybe it is the early morning or the fascinating fierceness of Keith but Hunk finds it difficult to look away. Maybe it is the relief of having his bike assessed but the sun seems to soften Keith’s features as he looks at Hunk with a raised eyebrow. Hunk clears his throat and motions towards the building, “just, uh, it’s right behind there.” He says as they push the motorcycle behind his bakery. He wipes his hands on his apron as he straightens and looks at Keith.

“You’re welcome to come into the café if you’d like, I just need to finish up in the kitchen. Do you,” he pauses, blinking a little as more flour settles in his face, “you live around here?” He asks.

Keith looks at Hunk with a furrow in his brow before shaking his head, “no, I mean, my friend Shiro does but I, uh, I’m from all over.” He explains glancing back at his bike as they walk towards the entrance of Hunk’s bakery. “I was supposed to get back on the road last night but-” he stops and idly rubs his head, before shrugging, “didn’t quite work out.” Hunk pushes open the door and Keith slips inside like a cat, his body brushing against Hunk’s as he steps inside the shop.

“Well, welcome to my,” he waves above and around them, patting down his shirt and hair as more flour settles, “shop, it’s called The SunFlour.” He grins at the pun; it was one of his best. It seemed to always go over everyone’s head. Keith appears to be one of those people. The man blinks at Hunk owlishly with a perplexed look on his face. It was kind of adorable. Hunk sighs and pulls one of his cards from the counter, handing it to Keith, “get it, sun… f-l-o-u-r.”

Silence.

Geez, this guy is a tough crowd. Still, Hunk takes it stride, he perks up as he hears the ding of one of his timers, “go on, take a seat, I promise I’ll start working on your bike as soon as I can.” Keith seems to understand this agreement as he takes a seat at one of Hunk handcrafted tables. Hunk had prided himself on the hominess of his bakery, emphasizing on warmth and comfort from the honey-hued walls to the warm scent of bread always filling every crevice of his establishment.

Keith pulls off his leather jacket; absently Hunk observes the firm muscles underneath the tight, dark fabric. “So, uh, you mentioned you were seeing a friend?” He asks as he shuffles into the kitchen tugging on some oven mitts and pulling his steaming muffins from the hot confines. “What’s the occasion?” He asks, poking his head out the doorway, his hair flopping in his face. 

Keith’s expression is still rather stoic, the furrow remaining a stagnant feature, “Shiro has,” Keith says slowly as if testing out the words, “he’s been having a bit of a tough time recently.” He says cryptically. Hunk immediately wants to snoop, it is a part of his natural curiosity, and well, not much stops him from pursuing the truth. Even when it came to Pidge’s diary. However, Hunk senses if he were to press this further, he’d chase Keith away. Hunk really wants him to stay. At least until his bike was looked at, of course!

“Oh, well,” he pauses, moving back into the kitchen, “that’s good of you to support him.” He replies evenly, before pulling his risen dough from the bowl. He isn’t sure if this guy likes small talk but Hunk would try his best to get even the smallest of talk from the motorcyclist. The remaining prep time is spent with Hunk attempting to strike up a conversation with Keith and being thoroughly stonewalled each and every time. 

By the time Lance arrives Hunk had all but lost hope in talking to Keith. It’s not helped by Lance being immediately suspicious of that mullet guy sitting in their shop and throwing a few accusations before Hunk had swept in to stop them. Still, Hunk puts Lance to work, hoping the two would keep it civil until after opening hours. “Hey Keith,” he says, drying his hands on a towel and tugging off his apron. “Gonna take a look at your bike, you’re more than welcome to stay here if you’d like, Lance can make you some coffee.”

A yell from the kitchen that sounds resoundingly like, “oh hell no! I did not agree to that!” Hunk offers a shaky smile before marching back to the kitchen, sending a glare to Lance as he exits towards Keith’s bike.  
  
He’s a little disappointed that the man doesn’t come back to visit him as Hunk busies himself with assessing the bike. Though, it could more than likely be that Keith had and Hunk had been too much in the zone to notice. It is not an uncommon occurrence. When he has finally tightened the last screw and the engine purrs to life, Hunk smiles. He loves cooking, it was his chance to experiment and fulfill his passion, but there was something so utterly rewarding about fixing something until it purrs.

Wiping his forehead of sweat, he returns inside with a hum and is pleased to see Lance hasn’t burned his place to the ground.

A few hours had passed since he had ducked out to fix Keith’s bike, the morning rush just starting to rear its fearsome head. He doesn’t have even a second to tell Keith his bike is fixed before he’s filling orders and ensuring that everything moves smoothly. Every second he has to spare between orders he looks to Keith. Each and every time, their eyes meet and Hunk is struck by just how Keith’s deep violet eyes pull him in.

Finally, the rush dies down and Hunk slips from behind his counter. “I fixed your bike,” he says, sitting down at the table Keith had chosen to sequester to, “and uh, well, this is for your friend.” He hands Keith a small basket of blueberry muffins, “I hope things get better for him soon.” Hunk watches the surprise cross over Keith’s face, he’s unable to mask it right away, and Hunk has to appreciate every trace of it. 

Keith takes the basket from Hunk, focusing on the bright, dainty yellow ribbon that tied the treats up, the label of The SunFlour dangling off of one of the strands of decoration.

“Is that okay?” Hunk asks suddenly unsure, “If he doesn’t like blueberry, I have some lemon poppy seed or banana.” He continues. Keith finally looks away from the basket and shakes his head.

“You’re way too nice,” Keith says and blinks pulling the basket close. It takes Hunk by surprise and a bubble of laughter escapes his lips. 

“I guess,” he rubs the back of his head a little, “it’s something I work hard to be.” He replies, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “And don’t worry about the bike, I had the spare parts and it was nice to work on such a beautiful machine.” He adds when he sees Keith reach for his wallet. “Consider it, ah, your, uh, ‘welcome to the neighborhood’.”

This show of kindness clearly seems to be putting Keith off, Hunk notes, as Keith fidgets in his seat. Keith stands up, basket in hand, and twists his keys deftly between his fingers as he slowly meets Hunk’s eyes, “thanks,” he says briskly, his head dipping a little and offering the barest hints of a smile. Hunk wants to zero in on Keith’s soft gaze but soon he is walking through the door, the little bell jingling in his wake. This guy moves as fast as lightning, Hunk barely has a chance to follow when he hears the tell-tale sign of tires against pavement and the powerful roar of the motorcycle.

 Hunk tries to stay positive even as the rumble of the bike fades, but he can’t help but feel he’d done something wrong.

Or maybe Keith just didn’t like muffins.

 

~ ~

 

Hunk has a difficult time letting go. When his gut tells him something, he clings to it until the truth reveals itself. And nine times out of ten, Hunk is usually right. Like the time those scam artists tried to sell him and Lance a faulty oven. Oh yes, Hunk saw right through them! Well, after they tried to steal Lance’s car, but Hunk always was suspicious!

So Hunk does what he always does when something is niggling at him, he talks about it. Loud and nervously with just a touch of excitement. And usually, the victim of his talking to was Lance. It is only fair since Lance loved to talk a mile a minute about his woes, why shouldn’t Hunk?  
  
“I don’t get why you even trusted the guy,” Lance says wiping down the counter and looking over at Hunk as he pulls out a tray of cookies, the sweet scent of gooey chocolate and sweet sugar filling the bakery. “He was practically mute! And he had a mullet! Anyone who takes fashion advice from the 80s is…” Lance throws his hands up to express his frustration. Hunk closes the oven door and shrugs as he sets down the tray. He scoops the cookies one by one to cool. 

“I know it’s weird, but, dunno, Keith just seemed like a guy in need of something nice, I mean he didn’t give off weird vibes. And he wasn’t rude.”  
  
“Uh, he was to me!”  
  
“You were rude to him first,” Hunk counters calmly.

“That,” Lance huffs, “that _so_ doesn’t count.” Hunk only hums in response.  
  
“I might not ever see him again, I mean, I hope I do, I want to talk to him, check on his bike, but,” he moves the tray to the sink before pulling out a muffin tin for his next batch. “I just wanted to be nice.” He explains and Lance sighs.  
  
“Buddy,” Lance steps away from the counter and swings an arm around Hunk’s shoulder, “that’s what I love about you, you’ve got the biggest heart around, I just don’t want people walking over you. That’s all.” Hunk purses his lips and sighs, Lance’s concern is valid and sweet, but the crux of the issue was Hunk _did_ want to see Keith again. And he might get that chance. It had been almost a week since Keith had stalled in front of Hunk’s bakery.

He is tempted to ask Pidge to look into it, but Keith was such a private person, clearly using his friend’s hacking skills would be a detriment to befriending Keith.

He thinks, give it until the end of the week if he doesn’t show, well, that’s that. Hunk was never all that good at letting go. The Thursday rush begins without preamble, Lance taking in orders as Hunk gets the last of the baking done. Hunk ducks down to adjust the goodies in the display; he hears the bell on the entrance jiggle, though it is barely mistakable from the chatter in his bakery.

Besides him, Lance lets out a low whistle. “Dang. He’s hot.” He breathes. Hunk frowns and straightens.

“Don’t harass our customers,” he stage whispers as a tall Japanese man with dark hair streaked with white approaches the counter. Hunk tries to get Lance to behave himself; he nearly misses the tuft of dark hair and the tell tale frown. It was Keith. He is somehow trying to hide behind this man, a friend Hunk assumes, and it is more than a little adorable.

“Oh. Hey, welcome back,” greets with a warm smile as the pair approach the counter.

“Hi,” the man greets slowly, tasting his words before speaking, “I wanted to thank you, the muffins were delicious, and for helping Keith with his bike.” He extends his hand to Hunk who shakes it without too much delay, “Takashi Shirogane, but, feel free to call me Shiro on my order of…” his eyes drift over the selection of treats. “What do you recommend?” He asks the pair and Lance, recovered from his star struck state, leaps to Shiro’s rescue.

“Oh, you’ve got to try Hunk’s blackberry pie.” Lance grins, “it’s to _die_ for.” He adds as he grabs a plate for Shiro.

Shiro nudges Keith and nods to Hunk before smiling politely at Lance as he hands him the plate, flirting shamelessly. Keith puffs out a breath, breaking his silence, “Yeah, sorry, um, about bolting. The muffins were really good and fixing my bike... Thanks.” He pauses, rolling his shoulders, Hunk can tell that he’s uncomfortable and he doesn’t like anyone to feel like that. He waves his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s my pleasure.” He glances at Lance as he leans over the counter and flashes his signature ‘fall for me’ smiles. “I didn’t think,” he snorts as Shiro thanks Lance with a soft smile that makes Lance’s face turn a hundred shades redder, he looks back at Keith, “I didn’t think I’d see you again. I’m glad it wasn’t the last time.”

“I… yeah, I wanted to come back,” Keith says slowly, “Shiro just, well, got me to actually do it.” He still looks nervous but offers a laugh, it’s a lot lighter than Hunk would’ve ever guessed, coming from such a serious person, and Hunk’s heart feels sorta fluttery. Oh no.

His sudden shocking revelation is interrupted as a stream of customers come flocking in. Hunk can only offer Keith an apologetic glance as he begins to take orders.

He’s certain that every time he looks up, Keith and his friend will be gone. But amazingly, they aren’t.

The crowd begins to thin and Hunk slips from behind the counter as Lance unsubtly ogles Shiro. “Can I get you two anything else?” Hunk asks rubbing his head a little with a sheepish smile as he tries not to note Keith looking up at him with those super pretty purple eyes and gosh, now his longing really made sense. “Coffee? Tea?”  
  
“I’ll take some coffee, thanks,” Shiro says with a hum, “and tell, uh Lance was it? Tell him thanks for the recommendation, your pies really are to die for.” Hunk beams at the compliment, he can’t help it. Sure, he doesn’t need to be told he is good at his job, but boy, does it help.  
  
Keith shifts a little, closing his eyes before exhaling. Hunk’s beaming smile diminishes, he hopes that he isn’t making Keith nervous for some reason, maybe he was the reason Keith was so quiet. Maybe he freaked him out. Maybe – “Hunk, could I have one of those muffins, the blueberry ones.” Hunk’s worry lingers but he nods, picking up Shiro’s plate.

“Coming right up,” Hunk chirps, looking behind him as he carries the plate back to the kitchen. Keith’s eyes meet Hunk’s and he sees the trace of a smile crease his lips.

And then he walks right into the counter.  
  
Lance snorts to the side of him, “Oh, now I know why you wanted to see mullet man again, hmm?” Now it’s Hunk’s turn for his cheeks to color. “Heh, knew it.” 

Lance takes the plate from Hunk, “Go on, woo your new boyfriend, I’ll get the orders.” He offers, ignoring Hunk’s panicked ‘ _Lance’_ as his friend leaves with a playful grin.  
  
Hunk turns back to look at the pair and can only offer a nervous laugh, “Lance is getting your orders now, I guess.” He stands by the pair, shifting from foot to foot. “How’s,” Hunk starts, butterflies feeling an awful lot like wasps in his stomach, “how’s your bike?” At this Shiro gets up and offers his seat, excusing himself to make a call, Hunk almost misses the panicked look on Keith’s face. Oh… maybe Hunk really was a bother. He’s about to get up, leave Keith alone since he seems to want it when Keith’s hand shoots out and clasps his own. 

Hunk is glad he’s sitting. He looks down at the hand, Keith’s fingers while slim were rough with callouses. Hunk wonders how Keith got them. He wonders if Keith would ever want to tell him. Sure, their meetings have been brief and more than a little bit awkward, but Hunk’s need to know, to understand, and to help, superseded any reason he had. And Keith was still holding his hand.

Hunk slides back down to sit in the chair, not daring to move more in case Keith decided to pull away. Absently, Hunk worries that his palm is sweaty, is it sweaty, oh gosh, he hopes not. Hunk wets his lips and flicks his gaze at Keith.

“My bike’s good, it’s,” Keith looks at their hands, furrowing his brows like he’s trying to decide whether or not to let go, he doesn’t, “it’s running much better actually.” He continues and Hunk can’t help but squeeze Keith’s hand in reassurance.

“Great, and if you ever need a tune up, you know who to call.” Hunk says with a nod and a tilt of his head as he looks at Keith. He thinks he sees a faint redness fill Keith’s cheeks, but Hunk reasons, it is rather hot in here with the afternoon sun streaming through his windows.

Keith’s still holding his hand.

Keith nods and bites on his lip, “Listen, Hunk, this might, uh, this might be a bit forward but – ” Hunk doesn’t hear the rest of request as Lance sets the plate with a warm gooey muffin on the table.

“Hey, Keith, is your friend single?” Lance interrupts. The soft look in Keith’s eyes immediately vanishes and he pulls his hand out of Hunk’s palm.

Hunk misses it immediately. 

He gears up to glare Lance down, but can immediately sense the death glare from Keith. Was it about interrupting them? Or, no, it was probably to do with his friend. They looked awfully close. Hunk rubs his hand against his pants and winces at how sweaty it was; that was probably more than enough of a reason to pull away from him. It probably had nothing to do with Lance at all. He pushes from his seat, tempted to stay only to hear what Keith has to ask but worried far too much that it will be something he doesn’t want to hear.

He hears the back and forth of Lance and Keith arguing before he ducks inside his kitchen. 

Cookies. No… a cake… no… Hunk wants to distract himself with something, anything, not think about Keith and his pretty dark hair. And Keith and his eyes that look like the deep recesses of space. Keith and the way his laughter sort of sounds like bells. And… And… muffins. He’ll make more muffins.

Ten minutes later, the door jingles and Hunk hears the rev of a motorcycle as it peels off down the road. Even by sound alone, Hunk can tell, she’s working like a dream. Hunk feels the disappointment of Keith leaving seep through him like a winter chill. 

The muffins come out lopsided and he hates them. He hates this. He should’ve stood his ground. Said something. Keith probably thinks he’s rude or weird. Just leaving. Did Lance even get Shiro his coffee? His mind whirls in all different directions and he can’t shut it off.

Lance steps into the kitchen and Hunk’s certain he can read the panic on Hunk’s expression. “Hey, bud, go check out their table, will you? They left a nice tip.” Hunk is about to mention that Lance is the one that served them, not Hunk. All Hunk did was be awkward and hold hands with a practical stranger. But the pointed look on Lance’s face is enough for Hunk.

Hunk shuffles to the table, cloth in hand to clean it as he picks up the tip. It was rather generous. Underneath it is a napkin, it’s torn in pieces where the pen dug too deep but Hunk can still read it.

_(201) – 618 - 1023. Date me? - K_

The cloth falls from Hunk’s hand as he hears Lance’s happy laughter.

“ _Lance_!”

Hunk calls Keith the first chance he gets.

 

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly never thought I would post on ao3 after so many years on hiatus, but sometimes you just need the right inspiration. I'm glad it was Heith cause dang they are cuties. I hope to be inspired enough to continue the Baker Biker Bois! And I hope my readers enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing Hunk floundering about Keith's cuteness. 
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr](http://hunky-dory.tumblr.com/), I sometimes do stuff on it.


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